


the story of us

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-07 23:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14091957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "It's a code red," Dex says, now teetering on the edge of panic. "He’s starting up a conversation.""That’s not a code red, bro. That’s a good thing!"“It’s really not,” Dex corrects, severely needing him to see the truth of the situation. “It’s a mess.""I'm sure it's not as bad as you think,” Chowder affirms, characteristically relentless in his optimism. “You just need to be yourself.”“Chowder, that’s the worst advice you could possibly give me.”"I'm gonna get off the phone,” he responds, slowly and patiently, as though he’s calming a child. “And, you're gonna stop hiding in the bathroom to go back out there and talk to him, okay?"Dex closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh before opening them again and unlocking the stall door. “Okay.”Alternatively, after Will walks into Derek’s bookstore they keep getting their paths, swords, and signals crossed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \---
> 
> 10/27/18 : Hello, if you're reading this and you remember when I disappeared the first time, I'm disappearing again, but this time I'm just orphaning the works instead of deleting, because even though I hate to see them and truly think they're just such embarrassing additions to the Internet, some of you like them, so. Anyway hopefully I come back again with another fic, I just hate everything right now! But thanks for all the support. Hopefully I'll see you all soon. 
> 
> \---
> 
> This is a romantic comedy full of silly and contrived misunderstandings. Okay here we go.

One could effectively claim that the story begins later at the pub, and a strong argument could be made that it starts earlier at the grocery store, but those who are _truly_ in the know understand that it all _really_ starts on the street corner, a quarter after twelve, on a Thursday at the end of May.

The storefront has the right number and looks exactly the way Kendall described, but Dex takes another moment to double, and then triple check. When he pulls the door open, he hears a small set of bells jingle over the music that’s playing in the store, and the man behind the counter looks up at him.

 

“Welcome to Leaf Through,” he says, waving with an open palm and a friendly smile.

 

Upon recognizing the man at the register, Dex is overtaken with a feeling of envy towards animals he’s seen in nature documentaries: lizards that blend into their surroundings, birds that fly away from danger at breakneck speeds, possums that get ignored by their predators by playing dead. An alarmingly large part of his brain begins to occupy itself with thoughts of how to execute any of those actions but miraculously, other parts of his brain are able to keep things running.

 

“Hello,” he greets, going up to the counter. “I’m looking for, um. Well, a coworker of mine said that this was a good place for a book for my boss.”

 

The man nods, and Dex feels a stab of annoyance at having to be on the receiving end of such an engaged look from eyes like these. “Okay, what’s your boss like?”

 

“Um, uh,” Dex stammers, unsure of how to proceed. He’s hyperaware of each second that goes by and his anxiety grows with the silence, so he sends the words on their way without the usual quality check. “Well, I guess he’s kind of a social justice warrior.”

 

The man’s eyebrows shoot up. “I don’t mean that in a bad way,” Dex adds, cursing himself internally. “I just don’t really have a term for, like- I guess the term is…“woke”, even though I already regret saying that out loud?”

 

Luckily, he just chuckles. “I understand.”

 

“Right, so just generally, books about like…race, you know, and like. Gender…sexuality,” Dex continues, suddenly remembering he wrote the name of a book down and reaching into his pocket. “Here, actually this might give you a better idea of what I’m talking about.”

 

The man behind the register takes the scrap of paper and nods. “Oh, okay. This is actually a book I just re-read, and there’s a book I like that I don’t think necessary ‘responds’ to this one, but it sort of…pushes some of the questions in interesting directions, if that makes sense.”

 

“It does,” Dex affirms.

 

“I just have to see,” the man says, half talking to himself as turns to his computer. “Where I put it.”

 

He types a couple things and clicks around for a few moments until he speaks again. “Okay, here we go. Follow me.”

 

Dex watches him come around the counter and trails behind him, taking a look around the store. It’s comfortable, homey even, and the bookshelves are a rich, gorgeous mahogany. The furniture’s earth tones compliment the shelves perfectly, and the natural light that comes in through the store’s big bay windows brightens the entire space.

He’s led to a tall bookshelf in the middle of the store, and the man gets on a stool to reach the book. As he steps down, he stumbles a bit and Dex grabs his elbow to steady him.

 

“You alright there?”

 

“Yeah,” he says, making direct eye contact with Dex. “Thanks.”

 

They look at each other for a moment, and the official reason that Dex removes his hand is because it was there for too long. He knows better than to think whatever surge he felt exists outside of his head. 

 

Dex quietly follows him back to the register, and the music catches his attention as he’s taking his wallet out. “You might want to look into your speaker system. It sounds like there might be something wrong with it.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The sound is kind of cluttered and jumbled.”

 

An amused grin slowly spreads over his face. “That’s just the way the song is.”

 

“Oh,” Dex says, interest piqued as he hands over his card. “What is this?”

 

“Tribe.”

 

“Tribe,” he repeats. “Is that the artist’s name?”

 

“It’s the group.”

 

“Oh,” he nods, understanding. “The group just calls themselves Tribe. Like, a tribe.”

 

“A Tribe Called Quest.”

 

Dex stands there for a moment, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed in confusion as the man hands him back his card with the receipt to sign. “So, are they called Tribe? Or, are they called Quest?”

 

“Sorry,” he says, beaming, which is something Dex wishes he could have prepared for. “The group’s name is the phrase ‘A Tribe Called Quest.’”

 

“Oh, I see,” he nods, understanding correctly this time. “Well, it’s um. It’s. Um.”

 

“I’d venture to guess that the term you’re looking for is ‘insufferable noise’,” he says, putting the book in a bag.

 

“An interesting sound, is what I was going to say,” Dex responds, unable to stop himself from grinning. “It’s an interesting sound.”

 

“Hmm, I’m sure,” he responds, smirking as he hands the bag over.

 

Right as Dex is about to turn and leave, the man leans forward and props his chin up on his hand, looking at him with a pensive, thoughtful gaze. “Have I seen you somewhere before?”

 

Yes, Dex thinks. Mostly Wednesday and Thursday evenings, but also the occasional Sunday afternoon.

 

“Not sure,” Dex lies. “Maybe.”

 

The man hums as a question comes to Dex. “You guys haven’t been here for that long, have you?”

 

“Nah, just a few months. We’re pretty new.”

 

Dex nods, taking another look around the store and realizing Shitty and Lardo would probably love this place. “Do you have a website?”

 

“Oh, here,” the man says, reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet. “I have business cards now, like a real adult.”  

 

Dex takes the card and glances at it before putting it away, looking twice at the words ‘Derek Nurse, Owner of Leaf Through Bookstore’. He’s surprised at that, because he wouldn’t have pictured the owner of a bookstore to be so young and handsome. “You’re the owner?” 

 

“Yup,” Derek nods.  

 

“Wow,” Dex exclaims, pausing for effect before he gives the compliment. “You don’t _look_ like you'd be the owner.” 

 

Derek’s eyebrows knit together and Dex watches all the brightness in his face seep out, as his lips form a tight, thin line. “Right.”

 

Dex stares for a moment, painfully aware of the newfound strictness in Derek's face, and unsettled because he’s not sure what put it there. “Okay, well. Well, thanks again, and. Have a good day.”

 

Derek wordlessly gives him a curt nod, waving as Dex leaves the store. The minute he’s back out on the street, he plays the last few minutes back in his head at half speed, and he stops in the middle of the sidewalk when it finally hits him.

He breaks into a near jog to return to the store, and he was only a block away so he gets back quickly.

 

“I meant that you’re young,” he calls, yanking the door open, slightly out of breath. “I meant that you’re way younger than who I would picture to be the owner of a bookstore. That’s- That’s what I meant.”

 

Derek is clearly surprised at the sudden reappearance and outpour, but he seems to take the words in stride, and nods thoughtfully before he responds. “I see.” 

 

“I really didn’t say you don’t look like the owner because you’re Black,” Dex asserts, because he won’t get another first impression and he has to explain.

 

“Okay,” Derek agrees, and his voice couldn't be more calm, but he’s officially looking at Dex like he’s a freak of nature. 

 

“I’m- I’m not a racist,” he blurts, foolishly trying to keep control of the situation from slipping further out of his hands, but ending up dropping it entirely.

 

Derek shakes his head slowly, eyes wide and bewildered now. “Didn’t…Didn’t say you were.”

 

“Okay, uh,” Dex stammers, opening the door again. “Okay, sorry, um. Bye.”  

 

He power-walks out of the store and practically sprints the blocks back to the office, and there are a few minutes left in his lunch hour but he’s too nervous to eat. The embarrassment compounds and swells into a storm, so he goes to the bathroom and does some breathing exercises until his chest aches a little less.

When he gets back to his desk, he’s all too ready to throw himself into his work, but with no way of knowing that the last thing Dex wants to do is speak, Chowder engages him in conversation.

 

“Hey! Did you get Jeff’s book?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The owner of the bookstore where I got the book is Trader Joe’s Guy,” Dex explains. “He was at the register.”

 

Chowder’s famously expressive eyebrows shoot to the top of his forehead. “Trader Joe’s Guy? Did you talk to him? Like, _talk_ to him, talk to him?”

 

“Once again, unfortunately…yes.”

 

He sets his iced tea down and looks at Dex, eyebrows now furrowed in confusion. “What happened?”

 

“I just. Hugely put my foot in my mouth.”

 

“How?”

 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Dex says, hoping to wrap things up. “But it makes no difference anyway, because that’s just. A stupid crush and he’s probably straight anyway so there was already no chance, and now there’s really no chance anyway, so.”

 

He should have known better than to say something so hopeless and negative, because now Chowder’s sad eyebrows are being unleashed unto him, and the full power of them is difficult to withstand.

 

“It’s okay,” he continues, ready to lie as much as he needs to get the crestfallen look off Chowder’s face. “Really, I don’t need to talk about it.”

 

“Okay,” Chowder agrees, reluctantly, before going back to his computer.

 

Dex turns back to his computer and dives headfirst into his work, throwing himself so forcefully into fixing the update’s bugs that he doesn’t leave the office till seven.

 

 

 

\---

 

The weekend goes by uneventfully and on Sunday afternoon, he takes Harley to the dog park and gets him some new toys. He didn’t think he’d take so well to a Manchester Terrier considering he’d always preferred bigger dogs, but Harley’s sweet and lovable nature endeared him to Dex almost instantly.

When they get back, he does some meal prep for the week, puts some of the HBONow to use, and decides not to risk a trip to Trader Joe’s. 

On Tuesday evening, he has a great phone call with Bitty that puts him in good spirits going into Wednesday, so when he gets a call from Shitty that night, he’s open and receptive to whatever shenanigans he’s sure are in store.

 

“Brah,” Shitty starts, in his loud and boisterous way. “My friend Mulley moved to Boston pretty recently and I want him to meet people, so we’re going bar-hopping Friday night and we’re meeting at O’Connell’s around nine-ish. I had to call you because I know you don’t do social media and I don’t know if your phone has texting capability.”

 

“Got it, Shitty,” he says, rolling his eyes because he knows Shitty knows he can text. “See you then.”

 

“Alright, you grumpy ginger bastard,” he responds, and Dex is assured once again that he will never meet anyone who can curse as affectionately as Shitty can. “See you soon.”

 

Thursday is frustrating, needlessly slow because he has coworkers who like to waste his time. He spends the day waiting in vain for simple tasks to be completed, throwing productivity down the drain because he can’t move forward without their parts being finished.

It’d taken him some time to get used to working in such an open office but now that he is, he doesn’t think he’d like a cubicle. One of the best aspects of the layout is that its design allows for essential verbal and nonverbal communication with Chowder, particularly necessary at times like this. 

He looks over, rolls his chair back, heaves a deep sigh and shakes his head.

 

Chowder, who up until now looked like he’d had a similar kind of day, perks up a bit before he speaks. “You want to go to happy hour?”

 

Dex takes a moment to think about the energy-sapping bullshit day he just had. “Not really, no.”

 

“Come on,” Chowder encourages, as Dex lets out an audible groan. “It’ll be fun!”

 

“Fine,” Dex relents, because it _has_ been a while.

 

They go to Murphy’s and order a couple of beers, chat about work and shoot the shit. It _is_ actually kind of therapeutic to be able to bitch and moan about his day to someone who can understand.

At a certain point, Chowder excuses himself to take a phone call from his mom and goes outside. Dex is scrolling through his phone and rolling his eyes at work emails he should have gotten four hours ago when a voice speaks.

 

“Is someone sitting here?”

 

He looks to the left of him where Chowder was, ready to tell the person that someone is sitting there, but the voice is coming from his right, where there _is_ an empty seat. “No,” he answers, quickly looking up at the guy who’s asking and ending up doing a double take.

 

“Hey,” Derek says, sitting down at the bar.

 

Dex freezes, clutching his phone like a lifeline. “Hey.”

 

Derek picks up one of the happy hour menus and puts an elbow on the bar, leaning forward. “What’s up?”

 

“Nothing, I’m just, uh. I’m here with my friend Chris.”

 

“Chill,” Derek nods, going back to the beer list.

 

He takes the opportunity to type out a message to Chowder as fast as his fingers can manage.

 

**TRADER JOE’S GUY/BOOKSTORE GUY/DEREK IS HERE. NEED YOU TO RETURN ASAP SO WE CAN LEAVE.**

Dex bites his thumbnail as he waits for Chowder to return, and Derek orders a beer from the bartender. When he gets his beer, he takes a sip and looks over at Dex. 

The problem, Dex soon realizes, is that he wants to sound cool and smart because Derek is looking at him, but he’s completely unable to sound cool or smart because Derek is looking at him. He goes back to the basics, mostly because he doesn't currently have anything else. "I'm Will, by the way."  

 

"Will," Derek nods, sticking his hand out as Dex shakes it. "Nice to officially meet you." 

 

"Yeah," Dex says, growing quiet as he remembers the actual first time they met. The pause drags on and Dex has to end it so he does, with the first question his mouth can provide.

 

“Do you…like beer?”

 

Derek gives him a curious look over his pint glass and when he finishes his sip, he develops an amused, bemused grin. “Yes, I do like beer.”

 

“I mean,” Dex starts, putting his brain to work to come back from the stupidity. “I mean, like. Craft beers from local breweries, that kind of thing.”

 

“Oh,” Derek nods, drawing it out. “You mean hipster beer culture.”

 

“Right.”

 

Derek props his chin up and leans forward, taking a moment to consider before he speaks. “I definitely do think when you take your time and do things in smaller batches, there’s a much higher chance that the beer will taste good but sometimes it really is just average, which is fine, but when these guys just start, like…waxing poetic about hops, I just want to be like…that’s such a sick story bro, and like…so glad you found your passion bro, but like...this lager tastes like Miller Lite.”

 

Despite his nerves, Dex laughs a rich, deep-throated laugh while Derek continues. “Deadass, this is _actual_ Budweiser. Like, actually though.”

 

Dex is opens his mouth to respond just as Chowder puts a hand on his shoulder. “So sorry to bail on you bro,” he says, picking up his bag and setting down a ten. “But I have this dinner with Farmer and she’s actually gonna kill me because I’m late, so sorry again bro,” he says, clapping Dex on the back. “See you tomorrow!”

 

Chowder leaves as quickly as he arrived and Dex stares after him, trying to devise another game plan now that he really is alone with Derek.  “Well, that was Chowder,” he states.  

 

Derek knits his eyebrows together as his finishes up a sip of his beer. “Chowder?”

 

“Yeah, it’s a nickname from college.” 

 

“Where’d you guys go?” 

 

“Samwell.” 

 

“Boo,” Derek jeers, drawing it out as he cups a hand around his mouth. “I went to Yale.” 

 

“Oh, _God_ ,” Dex groans, rolling his eyes. “Ugh.” 

 

“Okay, I know there’s a rivalry but the sigh of disgust didn’t have to be _that_ deep.”  

 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “They just had the most annoying hockey team.”  

 

“You played hockey?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“What position?” 

 

“Defenseman.” 

 

“Wow, me too. When I played in high school, I mean.” 

 

“Really,” Dex implores, cocking his head the side. “You played hockey?”  

 

Derek grins at him, ostensibly entertained. “You seem surprised.” 

 

“Well, you just seem, like. I don’t know, like….More of a poetry guy.” 

 

Derek hums, narrowing his eyes as he crosses his arms and leans back on to the bar. “Sounds like you’re surprised that I played such an aggressive and hypermasculine sport, so I’m assuming ‘poetry guy’ is some kind of euphemism.”  

 

“It's- It’s,” Dex stutters, feeling scrambled. “It’s not a euphemism for anything, I’m not-”

 

“I’m just messing with you,” Derek laughs, and he’s so patently and absurdly attractive that Dex wants to punch something. “I’m sorry, I’m just messing with you.” 

 

Dex knows he’s not going to be able to endure much more, so he’s already thinking about the fastest way to the bathroom as Derek speaks again.

 

“You know, come to think of it I _do_ miss hockey. Next season, I should go to a Bruins game.”

 

“Those are fun,” Dex adds, half paying attention and making sure his phone is in his pocket.

 

“I could also go home to watch the Rangers, it’s not like it’s far. Providence is nearby too, and the Falconers are awesome right now.”

 

“Yes, they are,” Dex responds, scooting the bar stool back a bit.

 

“Oh,” Derek says, putting two and two together aloud. “If you played hockey at Samwell, you must know-”

 

“Jack Zimmermann,” Dex cuts off as he stands, answering the question everyone else asks, unknowingly preventing himself from receiving a crucial bit of information. “Yes. I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me for a second.”  

 

He practically sprints down the hall and locks the door when he gets to a stall. In through the nose for four seconds, he thinks to himself as he does the breathing exercises. Hold for four seconds, then out through the mouth for five.

 

He reaches into his pocket for his phone and presses the top of his recently called. The phone only rings once before Chowder answers. “How’s it going?”

 

“ _Not_ well, I’m in the bathroom.”

 

“What’s happening?”

 

"It's a code red," Dex says, now teetering on the edge of panic. "He’s starting up a conversation." 

 

"That’s not a code red, bro! That’s a _good_ thing!" 

 

“It’s _really_ not,” Dex corrects, severely needing him to see the truth of the situation. “It’s a mess." 

 

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think,” Chowder affirms, characteristically relentless in his optimism. “You just need to be yourself.” 

 

“Chowder, that’s the _worst_ advice you could _possibly_ give me.”  

 

"I'm gonna get off the phone,” he says, slowly and patiently, as though he’s calming a child. “And, you're gonna stop hiding in the bathroom to go back out there and talk to him, okay?" 

 

Dex closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh before opening them again and unlocking the stall door. “Okay.”  

 

He hangs up the call and gets himself together before he walks out, and when he steps out of the hallway and takes a look at the bar, Derek is chatting with the bartender. The calm sense of composure he stepped back into the room with disintegrates just as quickly as it was built, and Dex looks down at the ground as each sobering, brutal realization falls onto him one after another.

It’s clear that he’s straight, Dex notes, as he looks back up and watches the bartender flip her hair and smile at Derek. He concludes to himself that it’s a futile and pointless endeavor either way, because even with the miniscule chance he’s not straight, someone like Derek is evidently, obviously, and impossibly out of Dex’s league. He decides that more than enough time has been wasted on the fantasy, and that he needs to go home before he can embarrass himself any further.

He nods a bit to himself and goes quickly, words spilling out as he picks up his stuff and drops cash, trying to go a little bit slower than Chowder did. “Sorry,” he starts, as Derek looks toward him, startled and watching him move. “I just feel really sick all of a sudden, so I’m going to go home.”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, I’m just a little nauseous,” Dex responds, not exactly lying. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

 

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you around.”

 

“See you,” Dex says, waving quickly and leaving.  

 

\---

 

Friday is a much more productive day thanks to the passive-aggressive emails Dex sends in the morning, and he’s pleased that he won’t be bringing any work-related frustration into the weekend. When he gets back to his apartment, he lounges for a bit, takes Harley for a quick run, and even does a little tidying up to kill time.

The night arrives and while Dex isn’t usually the most social and outgoing person, he’s genuinely looking forward to being able to go out and talk to people, especially because he needs all the help he can get to move his obsessed mind away from the subject of Derek Nurse.

When he walks into O’Connell’s, there’s a decently sized group congregated at the bar. Shitty spots him and greets him brashly and gregariously, the only way he knows how. He goes to where Shitty is standing and Dex has a quick moment of terror, because the man standing in front of him with his back turned looks incredibly familiar.

 

“Dex,” Shitty says, clapping the man on the back as he turns around. “This is Mulley.”

 

“Hey,” Derek says, looking puzzled. “Dex.”

 

“It’s a hockey nickname,” he explains, “From my last name, Poindexter.”

 

“Right, me too. Mulley is from Malik, which is my middle name. That’s what people called me at Andover.”

 

“Oh shit, your name _is_ Derek, isn’t it,” Shitty says, loudly announcing a piece of information that would have been hugely useful to Dex a few days ago over the phone. “Do you guys already know each other?”

 

“Yeah, remember I said the other day at happy hour,” Derek answers, smirking with a glint in his eye. “If you played hockey at Samwell, then you must know Shitty.”

 

Dex nods, swallowing hard as he realizes he might have been able to avoid this entire situation if he actually _had_ just let Derek finish that sentence. “Right.”

 

“ _Sick_ , brahs,” Shitty exclaims, clapping them each on the shoulder before continuing to play host and flit towards the next person in their group.

 

“Unfortunately,” Derek starts, leaning on the bar. “I _did_ tell Shitty that a tall freckled red-head came into the store, got upset that a Black guy owned it and stormed out saying they should have never put a Negro in the White House, but I don’t think he knows it’s you.”

 

Dex’s mouth goes slack and everything slows to a screeching, grinding halt. “You said _what_? _What_ did you say, you said- You said-”

 

“Oh my God,” Derek laughs, practically howling. “Your _face_.”

 

“That was fucked up,” Dex grumbles, shaking his head and touching his chest. “That was _fucked_ up.”

 

Derek holds a hand up, still chuckling as he apologizes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what it is. I just can’t help myself.”

 

Dex looks to the side, letting himself chuckle for a bit before bringing it up. “About that exchange at your store, though-”

 

“It’s chill,” Derek says, shaking his head. “I know words don’t always land the way we hope they will when we throw them.”

 

“Exactly,” Dex agrees. “Even though it’s more like never for me, but yeah.”

 

Derek tilts his head at that and stares at him, making Dex feel unsettled under his considering and scrutinizing gaze. Just as Derek is about to say something, one of his other old classmates from Andover greets him, and Dex gratefully uses the opportunity to escape.

Dex has enough friends present to be able to avoid talking to Derek one on one, and even though it’s still hard to focus with him in the same room, he stays engaged in other conversations that make it more manageable.

 

“The firm is trying to sponsor a Pride float at the absolute last second,” Shitty says, when they’re at Prohibition. “So basically, the office is a raging fucking dumpster fire right now.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Derek starts, with a nod. “Pride _is_ coming up, huh?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“You know what that reminds me of,” he says, with a laugh.

 

“I sure do,” Shitty nods, chuckling.

 

“So,” Derek begins, explaining whatever inside joke they have to the group. “Freshman year, I came out to Shitty and it was just this, like…really meaningful and emotional experience for me and I kind of thought he’d have a bigger reaction, but as it turns out I was, like…the fourth person to come out to him that week, so it was just, like…business as usual.”

Everyone in the group laughs except for Dex, who looks down at the ground paralyzed and barely knowing what to do with himself, because the verbal confirmation that Derek isn’t straight is only gasoline to the flames of his obsession.

“Anyway, I refer to that week as Shitty’s Personal Pride Week.”

 

“And I actually think you were the fifth,” Shitty adds.

 

“It was only like a Wednesday, though,” Derek responds, as the conversation continues.

 

He needs to leave as soon as he possibly can because the newfound knowledge is making the thoughts go into overdrive, and he needs the peace of solitude to be able to parse through the mess.

Fortuitously for Dex, when Derek turns around from the bar with a pint in his hand to offer him, he spills half of it onto Dex’s shirt.

 

“Oh my God,” Derek says, and it is kind of satisfying to see _him_ be flustered for a change. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“That’s okay,” Dex offers, truthfully, because it’s the perfect excuse to leave and even though he’s just trying to blot out some of the beer off Dex’s chest with napkins, he is _definitely_ way too excited by Derek’s touch.

 

He joyously says goodbye to everyone and goes home. When he gets back to the apartment, he throws his clothes in the wash and goes to bed thinking about the work he has to do next week, but those thoughts are soon overtaken by images of moss green eyes and jet-black curls.

 

\---

 

He comes out of the weekend wanting to avoid Derek, so he goes to Trader Joe’s on Tuesday, hoping he’ll be safe because it’s not one of the usual days.

Farmer wraps up their phone call about their coffee table project as he strolls down the aisle, stopping to consider a bag of yogurt-covered blueberries. Unluckily for him as he studies the nutrition label, a voice that’s becoming all too familiar gets his attention.

 

“Hey,” Derek says, as Dex looks over.

 

“Hey,” Dex responds, and he wants to burn the entire store down to the ground.

 

Derek is standing in front of him looking intolerably fit in a Yale muscle tank and to make matters even worse, he’s wearing glasses. To have to see him like this is nothing less than a cruel, bitter injustice.

 

“Just wanted to apologize again for the other day, and say you should let me know how much it’ll cost to dry-clean the shirt, or get a new one if it’s ruined, or-”

 

“It’s fine,” Dex assures, honestly. “Really, it’s okay.”

 

Derek looks hesitant but he accepts Dex’s answer. “Okay.”

 

Dex finds himself in the same predicament he always seems to find himself in when Derek is in such close proximity, and after he glances down at Derek’s groceries, his mouth only takes a few moments to get up to its usual antics. “Do you…like fruits?”

 

“Yes,” Derek responds, with the same amused, bemused grin. “I do like fruits.” 

 

“I mean,” he starts, needing to save himself once more, gesturing towards Derek’s basket. “You seem to have a lot in your basket, and a lot of different kinds. A cornucopia,” he finishes, for some god-forsaken reason.  

 

Derek smiles widely and brightly, and although Dex is relieved that he seems to be charmed by his idiocy, he’s still livid that he has to look at him. “ _Mad_ respect for the fact that you just dropped ‘cornucopia’ in the middle of a regular conversation and actually pulled it off.”

 

“Thanks,” he manages to grin, looking down and starting to flush.

 

“To respond to your statement,” Derek continues, “I don’t really do cooking or kitchens, so I get a lot of my nutrients from protein bars and smoothies, and I switch up the fruits so I don’t get bored.”

 

“You live off protein bars and smoothies,” Dex repeats, looking back up at him. “That sounds miserable.”

 

“It’s not that bad,” Derek argues back, shaking his head before he takes a look at Dex’s groceries. “What’s going on in _your_ basket?”

 

“Just a couple of things for a new scone recipe I’m trying out.”

 

“The way you said that implies that you have tried and true scone recipes, which is…something I’d like more information about.”

 

Dex half-chuckles and slightly moves his head to the side as he speaks. “I guess you could say I’m a bit of an amateur baker.” 

 

“Really? So am I.” 

 

Dex knits his eyebrows together as he tries to reconcile that with ‘I don’t do kitchens’. “ _Really_.” 

 

“Well, by ‘I’m an amateur baker’ what I mean is that I recently came off another Great British Bake Off binge, but I feel like they’re fundamentally equal concepts.” 

 

“Nice,” Dex says, chuckling as he nods. “It’s a great show.”

 

Derek regards him for moment, and there’s now an undeniable mischief that tints his eyes. “Do you give baking lessons? Could you teach me how to bake?” 

 

Absolutely not, Dex thinks, and this has gone far enough. He shuffles through angry, furious thoughts about how he doesn’t want Derek to even be standing in front of him, let alone to stand in his kitchen. He needs to pay for his stuff and leave as soon as he can so he can go home and be safe away from Derek’s perfectly chiseled jaw and ridiculously long eyelashes.

 

“Um,” he starts the sentence, not quite knowing where it’ll end.

 

Dex blinks hard and when he takes another moment to think, something strange starts to happen. Words begin to come to him but even as he says them, he has no idea where he’s pulling them from. “I’m sure I could show you some basics.” 

 

Derek quirks an eyebrow and grins. “I’m not kidding. I’m gonna take you up on that.” 

 

Dex maintains eye contact and speaks again with a hugely unfamiliar, completely unexpected, and largely unprecedented self-assurance. “You should.” 

 

He has no idea where the confidence comes from but it arrives and spreads through him speedily, as though a fairy godmother appeared and tapped him with her wand. Unbeknownst to him of course, he _is_ somewhat correct, in an abstract and nebulous sense.

Derek looks at him for a long moment and for the first time ever, Dex is at completely at ease.

 

Derek jerks his head as though an idea hit him, reaching towards his leg as he speaks. “We should exchange phone numbers.” 

 

“Yeah, for sure,” Dex answers, reaching into his pocket to get his phone and handing it over as Derek gives him his.  

 

He glances up at Dex as he’s typing his phone number in. “Are you on any social media?” 

 

“ _No_ ,” Dex emphasizes as he finishes typing in his own phone number, doubling down for effect. “ _Hell_ no.” 

 

“Okay,” Derek says, as they give each other their phones back. “I’m intrigued.” 

 

“I’m going to spare you my usual rant but long story short, I think the developers that make those apps are a bunch of hacks and as much as I love my friends, I think most of the things my peers post are boring and inane.”  

 

The amused, bemused grin returns as Derek tilts his head to the side. “Completely out of nowhere and not related to this in any way, but have you ever seen that still from the Simpsons with a fake newspaper that has a photo of their grandpa, and a headline that says ‘Old Man Yells At Cloud’?”  

 

Dex clenches his jaw to keep the smile from building, but once a chuckle gets out, he has to give in. “Yes.” 

 

“Oh, good,” Derek nods, fake innocent. “Like I said, nothing to do with this, I just love that show.” 

 

“That’s alright,” Dex insists. “I’ll own it. In fact, I’m also an old man yelling at the Cloud, like in the Internet storage sense.” 

 

“Now, _that’s_ a good one,” Derek says, beaming at him as he laughs. “I might steal that.”  

 

Dex chuckles and glances downward, a bit bashful. When he looks back up, he wonders if it’s obvious, and if his gaze is as noticeably besotted and adoring as he thinks it is.

 

“Well,” Derek continues. “You should let me know if you ever decide to become an insipid millennial and join us.”

 

Dex nods. “You’ll be the first to find out.”

 

Derek moves his body weight to the side and seemingly trips on air, but Dex is able to reach out and catch his elbow to stabilize him. This time, he lets it linger a bit more before he brings his hand back.

 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of clumsy?”

 

“A fun fact about me is that everyone I have ever interacted with has told me that, including complete strangers I only made fleeting eye contact with. I don’t even know how, but they just knew.”

 

Dex laughs as Derek continues. “Of course it only gets worse when I get some liquor in me, and…well, let’s just say in college I needed to be watched over pretty frequently. My friends called it Derek Duty.”

 

Dex smiles and makes sure his gaze is unfaltering, not even blinking as he says it. “Sounds like you were quite the handful.”

 

Derek’s eyes widen the slightest bit, and Dex is so perfectly composed, you wouldn’t be able to tell from his lazy, easy grin that his heart is pounding in his chest.

 

“I still am,” Derek says, looking him straight in the eye in the same brazen, unwavering way, and the air around Dex has never been so charged. “You know, on the right kind of night.”

 

“Hmm,” Dex hums, knowing Derek notices him glance down at his lips. “I can only imagine.”

 

They stare at each other and Dex is certain it’s written all over his face. It has to be clear from miles away that all he wants to do is clutch and grab and _take_.

 

Derek’s phone rings, jolting them both back into the outside world as he brings it out of his pocket. “I need to take this call from my sister and I’ll let you get back to your shopping,” he says, taking a step back. “But it was nice to see you, Will.”

 

Dex throws up a small wave. “Good to see you, too.”

 

He decides against the blueberries and sticks with what’s already in his basket, making his way through a line fairly quickly.

 

On his way to the gym he thinks about Derek, on the treadmill he thinks about Derek, and on his way home he thinks about Derek. He has to give himself a serious talking-to to get any work done the next day, and he goes home feeling scattered.

 

Cooking usually helps him concentrate and be present, so he decides to make soup. The first text comes in while he’s sautéing and he nearly topples the pan over in his haste to pick up his phone, throwing all hopes of focusing on anything else out the window.

 

**Am I remembering correctly that you’re a computer guy? If so, can I get your computer guy opinion on something?**

 

He turns off the heat so he can type out a response, chuckling at “computer guy”.

 

_Sure._

**Okay I’m watching this documentary on hackers and they make it look so easy? There’s no way it actually is, unless? Is it?**

 

_Depends on what you’re trying to get into._

 

**Just a couple of websites.**

 

_Can I ask why?_

 

**Basically they always make me set these crazy long and complicated passwords that I can never remember so I need you to just hack me in. Or you could teach me how to do that. Alright, thanks in advance.**

Dex chuckles and responds as the back and forth begins about programming, Dex’s job, the documentary, and television. The subject of Great British Bake Off returns, and an idea comes to him. He looks at the clock and sees he has a good amount of time left in the evening, and even though he doesn’t have the olives, he can still make it work with the rosemary and red onions he has.

On Friday morning, he brings it into work, and Chowder is thrilled because he loves Dex’s “baking days”. When his lunch break arrives, he takes the portion he set aside for Derek and goes to the bookstore to deliver it to him. When he walks in, Derek isn’t there, but a young woman is.

 

“Welcome to Leaf Through,” she greets.

 

“Hello,” Dex responds, “I’m looking for Derek. Is he in today?”

 

“Oh, he’s coming in later.”

 

“Okay, um. I’m just gonna leave this for him, it’s. It’s something we talked about yesterday. Could you give me a scrap of paper to write a note?”

 

“Sure,” she agrees, easily, as he picks up one of the pens on the counter and she hands the piece of paper over.

 

_Thought I’d try my hand at one of the breads from your baking show and I made way too much of it. Probably no match for your smoothie of the day, but hopefully you’ll think it’s decent._

 -  _Will_

 

As soon as he leaves the bookstore, he jumps onto a mental carousel, going up and down, around and around wondering whether or not that was stalkerish, and obvious, and too much. When he returns to work, he is blessedly met with problems to solve, so he’s able to concentrate on those and put the bread anxiety on the back burner.

 

The text comes in at five fifteen, just as he’s zipping up his bag to leave.

 

**Decidedly furious that I missed you today and couldn’t thank you personally for this Top Chef ass Food Network All-Stars ass bread.**

The second one comes in a moment later.

 

**Also not to be a parody of myself but this would be so fucking fire toasted up with some avocado on top. Legit flames.**

_I’m sure that’s true but I can’t endorse that kind of financial irresponsibility._

 

**You right. Getting the avocado to make the toast is probably why I won’t be able to buy a house or afford retirement but it’s worth it.**

Dex laughs, fully and heartily as another one comes in.

 

**But on a serious note you actually went too hard in that kitchen because with no hyperbole the flavors are world-class and the texture is unparalleled. It’s truly crazy to me that you can be so humble and down to earth even though you basically invented baking and also wheat.**

_It’s amazing that you were able to type and send the words “with no hyperbole”._

**Bro because I didn’t employ any. I only hit you with #facts.**

_Thank you. I appreciate the compliment and I’m really glad you enjoyed it._

 

The next message from Derek doesn’t come back as instantly as the first few, and Dex tries not to get too anxious about the pause. He puts his phone down at a little bit of a distance so he doesn’t keep staring at it while it’s in his hand. When it buzzes, he makes himself wait, and he manages about five seconds before snatching it and opening the message.

**Are you busy right now? Could I give you a call?**

 

Dex stares down at the text with a rush of excitement and on some level he knows he should calm down first, but his hands type it out too fast. _Sure._

 

“Hey,” Derek greets, when Dex picks up. “I just wanted to ask you, um- Well, tonight I’m hugely busy because we have this author Q&A event thing and I have some people coming in, but by any chance are you free tomorrow night? And, would you like to have dinner with me?”

 

“Yeah,” Dex responds, nearly too incredulous to speak but still able to form a few coherent words. “I’d love to.”

 

“I don’t know if you have any preferences, but there is an Italian place I wanted to check out?”

 

“Perfect,” Dex replies, giddy as a schoolgirl and grinning like an idiot. “Does seven work for you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Great,” Dex says, unknowingly wrapping the conversation up sooner than he should. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Hope your author thing goes well.”

 

“Thank you! See you tomorrow!”

 

Dex looks down at his phone after he ends the call, drops it on his desk and stares at it, completely in shock.

The daydreams are invigorated now, fueled and strengthened by the promise of their date, and Dex lets them carouse. He envisions walking Harley through the park with Derek, introducing Derek to Bitty, baking Derek’s favorite things. On his desk there’s a picture of Chowder, Farmer and Dex on their road trip last summer, and a picture of the whole hockey team in front of the Haus at graduation. He imagines a photo of the two of them, neatly placed in between. 

Little does he know as the fantasies continue, that the pressing of the end call button inadvertently set the ensuing series of events onto an unlucky path that could have been avoided, if only he’d casually inquired as to who exactly is coming in to visit Derek.

For now though, Dex is still buzzing as he goes home, almost high from the anticipation. He’s so full of energy, their run even tires Harley out, and the surging, spiking levels of excitement make it so that he can barely get to sleep. When he does it’s only for a few hours, and he wakes up on Saturday at the near crack of dawn.

He decides to make the most of the early morning and do some cleaning, first in the kitchen, then the bathroom, then the living room, then his bedroom. It’s a little bit after noon and the apartment is sparkling, but he still has hours before dinner. With nothing left to tidy, he decides to put some order in his wallet and get rid of the clutter.

After throwing out some old receipts, he comes across the business card Derek gave him weeks ago. He’s bored, so he opens up his laptop and goes to the bookstore’s website, scrolling through different posts and clicking on their Instagram. He notices Derek tagged in one of the store’s photos, and Dex clicks through to what must be Derek’s personal page. 

He leans back when he sees Derek’s most recent photo, blinking hard as if his eyelids can somehow remove what’s in front of him. In the top left corner of Derek’s Instagram page, Derek is smiling, with his arm around a handsome, burly man. The man under Derek’s arm is taking a sip out of a pint glass, and has a plain, circular band around his ring finger.

Nothing makes sense and Dex is grasping for a logical explanation, but he can’t deny or go against what he sees. Derek is smiling and looking lovingly at a man who has a wedding ring on, and Dex wants to throw up. He closes the browser before he can get even more upset, and takes some breaths.

The nagging internal voice that’s recently been quieted and overwhelmed by the dizzying feelings of his crush returns from the bottom of its defeat, and speaks in a loud and resounding way that’s impossible for Dex to ignore. It reminds him that he should have known it was too good to be true. It reminds him that he should have known something had to be wrong. It reminds him that a man like Derek would obviously already be in a relationship, and cheaters cheat below their level all the time.

He picks up his phone nearly crazed and types furiously, writing out the angriest, most terrible message he’s probably ever written to anyone. Luckily, his sense of reason kicks in and he erases it all, deciding on something short and drama-free instead.

 

_I can’t do dinner tonight._

The response comes back almost instantly.

**Okay, could we reschedule?**

He’s irate as he deletes the text message, furious as he deletes the others, and still spitting mad as he blocks the number. He gets rid of every trace of Derek Nurse on his phone, and then turns it off for good measure.

 

Dex goes to the kitchen and pulls out one of the cookbooks Bitty gave him to flip through it, afraid of how much worse the fury might feel if he doesn’t occupy himself with something.

 

He clears his head and sets his intentions for the rest of the afternoon, deciding that the only two things he needs to do are to bake the plum tart and keep from crying in the kitchen. Regrettably, for everyone, he doesn’t succeed at doing both.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right okay yes like the tag says this is a romantic comedy and the song that plays at the end of the ~movie~ is Young Blood by the Naked and Famous. Okay here we go.

By some miracle, he gets approval from Jeff to work from home for the week so after Monday he does, and it’s both a blessing and a curse. He doesn’t give Chowder too many details, but he gives enough information to make it so that he’d be able to feel the pity from the next desk over, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to. At the same time, he has a tough time getting out of bed and taking regular showers, and the only thing that gets him out of the house at all is Harley. He’s picked up on Dex’s mood drop, so they both pad around the apartment in the same sad, pathetic way.

His self-imposed isolation from his friends lasts until Saturday morning, when he gets a text from Chowder.

 

**Farmer says you need to come to the Farmer’s Market with us.**

 

_Tell her I can’t._

 

**She says she’s not afraid to use the spare key and abduct you.**

 

He sighs and drums up every single ounce of energy he has to put clothes on, reluctantly becoming a person again. When he gets outside, it’s a beautiful day and there’s a lovely breeze going through the city, so he tries to let the sunshine lift his mood.

He’s happy to see Chowder and Farmer, and he can’t deny that the market has some great in-season produce. The three of them get lemonade and chat for a bit, and at a certain point, Dex splits from them to take a look at some strawberries for a summer pie he wants to make. As he leaves the stand with his bag, he bumps into someone who’s walking backwards.

 

“Excuse me,” the guy says, turning around.

 

“No worries,” Dex responds, narrowing his eyes because he swears he recognizes the guy from somewhere.

 

In the next five seconds, he realizes that the man who bumped into him is the man from Derek’s photo, and that Derek is coming up right behind him.

 

They look at each other for a moment and they’re too close to pretend like they didn’t see each other, so Dex just sucks it up.

 

“Hey,” he says, looking back and forth between Derek and his husband. “How are you?”

 

“Good,” Derek answers, terse. “Um, Will, this is my brother-in-law, Rami. Rami, this is Will.”

 

Brother-in-law rings and clangs around his head as he shakes Rami’s hand, and there’s a newfound tightness to his face. “Oh. Will?”

 

“No,” Derek interjects, loudly and abruptly. “That was another Will.”

 

“Oh, good,” Rami replies, suddenly jovial. “That’s good, because the other Will is a dumbass.”

 

Derek quickly looks back and forth between them. “Alright, Rami.”

 

“It’s just the truth, anyone who would blow you off and stop texting you is an idiot,” Rami continues, with a shrug, gesturing towards Derek as he talks to Dex. “I mean, do you see what’s going on here? Look at him: tall, handsome, intelligent, successful-”

 

“Rami,” Derek interrupts, placing a hand on his arm.

 

“I’m sorry,” Rami says, putting a hand over Derek’s, before bringing it back to his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m embarrassing you, aren’t I? I know, I’m sorry,” Rami continues, turning to Dex. “I have a big mouth.”

 

Dex just nods, tormenting himself for coming to the wrong conclusion and trying to figure out what to say to get out of the situation. Rami proves to be quite the chatterbox indeed, and engages Dex in conversation as Derek awkwardly stands to the side.

 

“I should text my friends,” Dex announces, as soon as there’s a break in the conversation. “I think I lost them.”

 

**DEREK ISN’T MARRIED AND THE GUY I THOUGHT HE WAS MARRIED TO IS ACTUALLY HIS BROTHER IN LAW. THEY’RE HERE NOW WITH ME AT THE CULVER FARMS STAND. NEED YOU TO SAVE ME ASAP.**

 

“I went through the same thing earlier,” Rami says, as Dex types. “I always get really lost and overwhelmed in farmer’s markets without Alexis and I never learn that I should just stay put until she comes back.”

 

Dex nods again as he glances up from his phone, praying to anyone who’s paying attention to send a lightning bolt down to strike him dead.

 

“Alexis is my wife and Derek’s sister,” Rami explains, which Dex at first thinks is unnecessary, but he supposes brother-in-law can mean different things. “But, primarily my wife.”

 

“Incorrect as usual,” Derek says, and it’s the first thing he’s said since he cut Rami off. “Because Alexis is primarily my sister.”

 

“I just feel like that’s more of…like a dream you have, you know? I just feel like that’s more just…a wish your heart makes.”

 

Derek half-chuckles, shakes his head and looks to the side as Rami continues to retain Dex, and Dex rolls along as calmly as possible, trying to make as little eye contact with Derek as he can. He sees Chowder and Farmer in the distance, and starts to get ready to use them as a way to extricate himself, but Derek’s sister shows up first.

 

“Hello,” she greets. She’s beautiful, and Dex can see the resemblance. “I’m Alexis.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Dex says, shaking her hand. “I’m Will.”

 

“Oh,” she nods, and to her credit, she hides it much better than Rami did. “Will.”

 

“It’s not the shitty one,” Rami assures, mistakenly.

 

“ _Great_ , because we _hate_ the shitty one,” she smiles, and Dex’s heart goes out to Derek, who looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “So, that’s a relief.”

 

Chowder and Farmer come up and just as he’s about to say something to wrap everything up, Farmer puts her hand forward and introduces herself to Alexis and Rami.

 

“Hi, I’m Caitlin,” Farmer says, beaming as she shakes their hands, and Chowder follows suit. “Great to see you again, Derek.”

 

“You too,” he nods, with a small grin.

 

Alexis looks around at the four of them. “How do you all know each other?”

 

“Well, it’s such a small world,” Farmer answers, starting the exact kind of conversation Dex was hoping to avoid. “We had a friend from college who went to Andover with Derek, and we got to know each other now that we’re all living in Boston.”

 

“Nice,” Rami says, as he and Alexis nod.

 

Chowder speaks next. “Are you guys just here for a visit?”

 

“Well, I had a work conference,” Alexis explains, “So, we thought we’d make a whole trip of it.”

 

“Great,” Farmer replies. “Well, if you’re not doing anything tonight, we’re having a dinner party.”

 

Rami and Alexis look at each other and nod again. “That sounds fun.”

 

Even though everything is going entirely too quickly and alarm bells are ringing as the walls close in on his chest, Dex is somehow able to form a sentence. “Since when are you guys are having a dinner party?”

 

“Will,” Farmer chuckles, without missing a beat. “If it’s not about computer programming, it goes in one ear and out the other.”

 

“God, I know,” Alexis laughs, like it’s an inside joke. “Rami’s the same way.”

 

“Um,” Derek interrupts, and Dex is certain he’s the only one who wants this dinner party to happen less than he does. “We already have those reservations at the sushi place though, don’t we?”

 

“Oh, I’ll just call them and move it to tomorrow night,” Alexis says, shaking her head and brushing it off with her hand. “We’d love to come.”

 

“Perfect, we’re saying eight-ish. Derek, I’ll make sure Will texts you the address,” Farmer finishes with a grin, and Dex is full of incomparable rage.

 

“Great,” Derek answers, looking a little shell-shocked as they all say their goodbyes. Dex quite literally grins and bears it as he waves, and makes sure the other three are no longer in sight before he starts.

 

“You guys are _not_ having a dinner party.”

 

Chowder just shrugs and looks between Dex and Farmer. “Looks like we are now, dude!”

 

“Farmer, _what_ the hell?”

 

“I know you’re mad at me right now but we need to talk about this later because we don’t have that much time,” Farmer says, pulling out her phone. “Let me text Larissa.”

 

“ _Caitlin_ -”

 

“ _William_ , I love you very deeply and you’re one of my best friends,” Farmer argues back. “So, that’s why I have to get you out of your own way.”

 

Dex lets out a deep sigh, puts his hand on his forehead and shakes his head.

 

“Also,” she adds, surely as she’s texting their entire friend group. “I hope you’re ready to bake, because I’m going to need your oven power.”

 

After they leave the farmer’s market, they put all of their energy into party preparation. Dex and Farmer split up the food, and Chowder gets wine and supplies. By the grace of God, they get everything done and their friends show up on time. At eight fifteen, Chowder and Farmer’s apartment is buzzing with people and if Dex didn’t already know, he’d have never known it was all put together in such a chaotic, slapdash way.

 

“Derek’s been lobbying pretty heavily to get us to move to the East Coast,” Alexis says, sipping her wine.

 

“Because contrary to the propaganda I’m sure you hear from your husband,” Derek retorts, “It’s where you belong.”

 

“I don’t know if I like that tone,” Rami argues, insincerely stern. “Why do you have such a bad attitude, Der-bear?”

 

“I don’t know, _Mimi_ ,” Derek fires back, and Dex and Alexis start to chuckle. “Why did you kidnap my only sibling and move her thousands of miles away from me?”

 

They all laugh at that, and Derek takes another sip and points to Rami. “While I’m on the subject Lexie, don’t let this bum from Los Angeles make you forget where you came from.”

 

“Derek, why did you cry to me on the phone for hours about how much you missed Rami and beg me to bring him on the visit only to call him names now that we’re here?”

 

“That first part’s fake,” Derek says, turning to Dex. “I didn’t cry on the phone for hours.”

 

“Der-bear’s _right_ ,” Rami proclaims, assertive and vociferous. “I was _there_ and I can _confirm_ it was only for about forty five, fifty minutes tops.”

 

They all laugh again, and the merriment continues on that way throughout the rest of the dinner party as he gets to know Alexis and Rami. They live in San Francisco, so they bond with Chowder, and they both work in tech, so Dex also finds plenty to talk to them about. They’re funny, personable and intelligent people, and he thinks with a twinge of regret that he could have actually been their friend if he hadn’t screwed things up so royally.

As far as Derek goes, he’s thankful that they’re able to chat without it being weird. He’s sure it’s due to the alcohol, but he’ll take what he can get.

 

“Have you really never seen Breaking Bad?”

 

“No,” Derek answers, “I’m not in any hurry, either.”

 

“You’re missing out, it’s a great show.”

 

“Not sure how I’m missing out when Morally Grey White Dude Antiheroes are literally everywhere.”

 

“I think that’s a bit of an oversimplification.”

 

“To me, it’s more about the fact that more resources need to be put towards telling different kinds of stories.”

 

“I don’t disagree with you, I’m just saying the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

 

“But there _is_ an overrepresentation of cishet White dudes in media, so you might need to treat the two like they _are_ mutually exclusive, in order to make up for that imbalance in a way that’s substantial.”

 

Dex thinks about what he wants to say as he sips his drink, making sure to line up the right words before he speaks. “I understand and agree with that as a necessary tactic in Hollywood when creating and casting shows,” he concedes, with no issue. “I’m just saying you, as a viewer, can champion much-needed diversity efforts and give Breaking Bad a chance at the same time. All I’m saying is that they don’t have to cancel each other out, for you personally.”

 

Derek takes a swig from his wine glass and purses his lips as he swallows, regarding Dex. “I suppose they don’t.”

 

“I’d also say two of the best characters on Breaking Bad are played by Giancarlo Esposito and Anna Gunn, so you _are_ missing out on compelling performances by incredible actors who _aren’t_ cishet White dudes. That doesn’t take away from anything you’re saying, I’m just pointing out that those are important parts of the show that you might actually enjoy.”

 

Derek keeps staring and Dex thinks he sees begrudging respect, but he might be imagining it. “Perhaps.”

 

Dex is loose, profoundly enjoying himself and freely having fun, engaged and alive in a way that only seems to happen around Derek. “Dare I even _ask_ about Mad Men?”

 

“Now, _that_ show had some real White Excellence,” Derek responds, and Dex throws his head back and laughs. “I can’t front on Mad Men ‘cause there was some…deluxe, high quality Caucasity on there.”

 

The party eventually winds down and Dex is still partly in disbelief at how well it went. He’s standing next to the hosts as they bid their guests goodnight.

 

“Thank you so much for coming,” Farmer says, hugging Alexis.

 

“Thank you so much for the invite,” Alexis returns. “We had an amazing time.”

 

“Are you guys getting an Uber back?”

 

“Yes,” Alexis answers.

 

“Okay, well just as a heads up, for some reason the GPS they have always messes up the address, so it can be a bit of a pain to find the driver.”

 

“Oh,” Chowder says, looking over at Dex like something just occurred to him. “Dex knows the best spot to meet the Uber, he can show you, right Dex?”

 

“Yeah,” Dex agrees, even though there has never been an Uber driver who had a problem picking any of them up from this apartment complex. He’s a bit anxious about being put on the spot, but he gets through it by promising himself that he actually _is_ going to murder Chowder soon. “For sure.”

 

He hugs them both goodbye too and goes downstairs with Alexis, Rami and Derek.

 

“So,” Alexis starts, “How do you want to do this? Der, you want to ride with us and get dropped off first, or?”

 

“Will, you don’t live too far from Derek right,” Rami says, speaking right as Derek is about to, and Dex curses himself for bringing that up during one of their earlier conversations. “So, it probably makes more sense for us to take an Uber back to the hotel, and then you and Derek can split another one.”

 

“True,” Alexis concurs, as they both look at Derek and Dex expectantly. “That does make more sense.”

 

“Great,” Dex says, as Derek also agrees. “Sounds good.”

 

When Alexis and Rami’s car arrives, they all say goodbye and Rami grabs Derek’s face as he speaks.

 

“I know you have a little separation anxiety but I’m gonna see you tomorrow, okay baby bro? I’m gonna miss you _so_ much. Love you forever.”

 

“Yo,” Derek says, right as Rami gives him a bear hug and a big loud kiss on the cheek. “You do _too_ much. Deadass, you do the most.”

 

They both laugh and Rami waves at them one more time before getting in the Uber. When the car drives off, Derek pulls out his phone and as a light breeze makes its way down the empty street, Dex realizes that they’re truly, completely alone now.

 

“You and Rami seem pretty close,” he starts, because the silence is making him uneasy.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Derek answers, as he taps around on his phone. “Rami’s...really great. I feel like I owe him a lot.”

 

“Hmm,” Dex hums, as Derek continues. “Growing up, Lexie was always an overachiever because my dad is…difficult to please. But Rami’s really helped her relax, and it’s just been the best thing. He’s like the brother I didn’t know I always wanted.”

 

Dex nods as he looks at the streetlights and considers Derek’s words.

 

“But Lexie’s my best friend,” Derek adds. “So, it’s not like I was _missing_ anything. Plus, with how destructive and violent masculinity is, it’s probably better that I didn’t spend my formative years with an older brother, to tell you the truth.”

 

Dex hums again, reflecting on how growing up with Kevin might have affected him.

 

“Not to like…I don’t know, keep over-sharing and hitting you with Tumblr out of nowhere.”

 

Dex half laughs, half scoffs at that. “You’re not over-sharing and the first time I met you was at the queer feminist bookstore you own, where I bought a critical race theory book from you, so. You’re not exactly blind-siding me with anything.”

Derek looks at him and laughs, impossibly even more gorgeous than usual, and Dex can’t believe he fucked it up. He’s forcefully resisting the urge to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness as Derek responds, still grinning. “I suppose that’s true.”

 

“Derek,” he starts, because he needs to clear the air. “About. About this past week.”

 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Derek shakes his head, and he says it so quickly, it’s as though he had it on hand. “It’s chill.”

 

“I thought you were married,” Dex explains.

 

Derek turns his head and furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

 

“I saw the photo of you and Rami on Instagram and I saw his ring and I thought you guys were married and that it’d be like. Like, an affair.”

 

He looks around, nodding slowly, and Dex imagines that all the pieces are coming together in his head. “I see.”

 

“I shouldn’t have cancelled dinner,” Dex admits. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

 

“I do wish you would have asked me, but I can see how the picture could have looked that way.”

 

Dex nods and looks down at the ground, feeling ashamed and undeserving of the kind, understanding way Derek is handling the situation. He pulls out his phone and opens up the app as Derek speaks again.

 

“Was- Was that the only reason?”

 

Dex looks over.

 

“Was that the only reason you called it off?”

 

“Yes,” he answers.

 

“So, what about now,” Derek asks, looking at Dex with an unquestionable intensity, speaking with clarity and purpose. “What about now, that you know I’m not married?”

 

Without a doubt, it’s the most shocked and unprepared Dex has ever been in his life, because he’d have never thought in a million years that this could come back from the dead after he so foolishly killed it. “I. Um.”

 

Derek walks towards him slowly and bridges the gap, not stopping until his face is barely an inch away from Dex’s. “Do you want to come back with me? To my apartment?”

 

Dex just blinks for a few seconds, completely in disbelief and not knowing if he’s even ready for the answer he gives. “Yes.”

 

Throughout the minutes they spend waiting for the car, Dex is overwhelmed with the things he wants to say, the questions he wants to ask, the feelings he wants to share. Despite all of this, every time he looks over at Derek, all he can seem to do is stare. From the looks of it, it seems as though Derek is having a similar experience.

The ride to his apartment occurs in the same kind of intense and space-occupying silence, and they spend most of the car ride exchanging nothing more than stolen glances. 

Once they’re in the living room, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, or his legs, or any other part of himself. His brain is barely functioning, having difficulty operating while Dex is so deeply, thoroughly consumed with want.

 

Derek stands a few feet away, wringing his hands as he speaks. “Can I get you something to drink, and…do you want to watch a movie, or something?”

 

Dex looks at him and says it with resolution, encouraged by the wine and emboldened by the darkness. “No.”

 

Derek walks towards him and brings a hand up to Dex’s face, bringing the low rumble of his heartbeat up to a forceful, hammering drive. “Do you want to go to my room?”

 

Dex sighs into his touch, nodding double-quick and answering at a near-whisper. “Yes.”

 

Derek kisses him and it’s unbelievable, implausibly even better than Dex imagined, fevered and frantic as they move towards Derek’s room. They stumble in with their hands running all over each other, and Derek closes the door behind him as he moves them toward the bed. Dex is elated, happy to let him take the lead, wanting nothing more than to surrender himself to Derek.

 

Dex drops onto the edge of the bed but he stays upright, and Derek climbs into his lap to straddle him, speaking in between kisses. “What do you want?”

 

“Can you touch me,” Dex urges, practically panting into Derek’s mouth. “Please.”

 

Derek unzips his jeans and obliges, setting Dex completely ablaze.

 

He takes Dex’s face into his other hand and looks at him for a long moment before speaking. “Do you want me to stop?”

 

Dex shakes his head, fervent and nearly unhinged, inhaling slow and deep as he tries to catch his breath. “No.”

 

Derek kisses around from his jaw to his neck, and his voice sends a shudder down Dex’s spine. “Do you want me to slow down?”

 

“No,” Dex repeats, still breathless. “Please, don’t.”

 

“Okay,” Derek whispers, taking Dex’s shirt off before pushing him onto his back and kissing his way down his chest.

 

Derek continues the slow and methodical work of breaking Dex down into pieces, and his world becomes nothing more than the pressure of Derek, and the night that surrounds them.

 

\--

 

The first thing that Dex notices when he wakes up is that Derek’s window is open, bringing in fresh air and sounds from the street. He yawns and stretches out, blinking some of the sleep out of his eyes as he reaches towards the other side of the bed and realizes the second thing. To Dex’s sudden, jarring, and unsettling surprise, it’s empty.

He looks at the clock on the nightstand and turns on the lamp before getting up and finding his jeans. He pulls them on and gets his phone from where he left it in his pocket, seeing texts from Bitty, Farmer and Chowder. There aren’t any from Derek.

The slight, creeping dread is temporarily kept at bay as he elects to look around the apartment before succumbing to its dominion.

Derek isn’t in the bathroom, Derek isn’t in the kitchen, and Derek isn’t in the living room. The full awareness that Derek isn’t there at all washes over him as he stands by the bed, half-dressed and heartbroken, feeling once again like the biggest idiot on the planet.

It was just a hook up, Dex thinks to himself. He never promised or guaranteed anything more, so Dex concludes that he doesn’t have the right to be upset. The hurt swells anyway of course, as it is wont to do, justified or not. 

Dex argues to himself that he could have stayed, but determines that he probably didn’t want him to linger and decides that it would be even more embarrassing for Derek to come back to find him crying in his room. After taking a moment to pull himself together, he finishes getting dressed and gathers his things.

 

He leaves the apartment distraught and crushed, much earlier and much differently than he would have if he’d only been able to see the piece of paper left on the nightstand, before an accidentally robust wind whirled into the room, and blew it under the bed.

 

On Sunday, he’s in a near haze but he manages to text his friends the bare essentials. When he goes into work on Monday, he knows he looks like a zombie, and as much as Chowder tries to be discreet, Dex notices all the times he looks over, worried and concerned. Bitty sends him a message asking if he can go down to Providence for the weekend, and Dex is certain Chowder and Bitty came together and decided a few days away from Boston would be good for him. He doesn’t want to have fun and he still feels like he’s barely holding it together, but he agrees because his friends care, and he owes them the effort.

Derek doesn’t call, Derek doesn’t text, and Dex keeps picking up the pieces.

He’s taking Friday off to leave for Providence in the early afternoon, so he spends nearly the whole day on Thursday at the office to get ahead on his work, not needing to go home for Harley since he’s already at Chowder and Farmer’s for the weekend.

It’s half past ten and Dex knows he’s pushing past what’s necessary, already so ahead that he could comfortably take Monday off if he wanted, but a part of him wants to keep going. He comes to a bit of a fork in the road, not knowing whether or not he should do some more work cleaning up the database, or go back to those last few bugs on the app. He leans back in his chair and sighs as an idea comes to him, reaching towards the mug of loose change he keeps on his desk.

The quarter sits in his hand for a few moments, and after Dex decides which side gets which outcome, he flips it. To his surprise, it lands in the crook of where his desk meets the wall and lodges in the small gap, standing completely upright. He correctly takes the result as a sign for him to do neither and go home, so he closes his things down, tidies up his desk, and does.

Once he’s back on the street, he starts to think about his work and the upcoming trip to Providence. He’s so focused on those thoughts that he doesn’t notice when he starts to take the shorter, now forbidden route to the station, and when he turns the corner, he runs straight into Derek.

They both stand there for a moment, looking at each other in stunned silence. It’s clear neither of them expected to run into each other at this time of night, and they both blink a couple of times with their jaws open before Dex decides to say something. “Hey.”

 

Derek stares at him, swallows hard and scratches his jaw. “Hey.”

 

“What’s- How are you?”

 

“I’m alright,” Derek answers, looking away as he says it.

 

“Are you,” Dex starts, looking at the storefront. “Are you just closing the store now?”

 

“We had a poetry reading,” Derek explains.

 

Dex nods and bites his lip, looking down as he feels a pang he can’t describe. “That makes sense.”

 

“Did-”

 

“It-”

 

They both chuckle the tiniest bit at speaking over each other, both of them simultaneously seeming to realize how uncomfortable the situation is.

 

“Look,” Derek begins, “It’s chill, I mean. It doesn’t have to be awkward, you know, like, we have mutual friends…We can just be cool.”

 

Dex thinks about how he’s felt since last week and even if it makes things easier, he can’t just pretend. “Sorry, but. I don’t know if I can just ‘be cool’ yet.”

 

Derek’s face transforms, and there’s now a vivid, intense anger that paints his features. “Okay, maybe the note was a bit much but I think you’re taking it kind of far. I mean, you don't have to be a dick about it. ”

 

Dex blinks, certain he heard incorrectly because there’s no sense in what Derek said. “What?”

 

Derek clenches his jaw, still visibly upset, and nods slowly. “So, what we’re doing now is acting like nothing ever happened, I guess.”

 

He goes back to what Derek first said, trying to understand what he could possibly mean. “What note are you talking about?”

 

“Not sure why you’re playing dumb-”

 

“I’m not playing dumb,” Dex cuts off, because he doesn’t know exactly what he missed, but he’s starting to realize it was important. “What note are you talking about?”

 

Derek crosses his arms and lets out a furious, incredulous scoff. “The note I left on the nightstand saying I’d be back with breakfast.”

 

“I didn’t see that,” Dex says, shaking his head. “I didn’t see any note.”

 

“Okay, you really don’t have to lie-”

 

“ _Derek_ ,” Dex nearly yells, needing to be heard and needing him to listen. “I’m _not_ lying.”

 

They stare each other down for what seems like an eternity until Derek uncrosses his arms, seemingly starting to be convinced by the genuine, earnest truth in Dex’s face. He wrings his hands as he looks down at the sidewalk.

 

“Maybe, it- Maybe it slipped off,” he says, and his voice is so low Dex has to strain to hear him. “I thought you just, kind of. Picked it up and tossed it to the side.”

 

“I didn’t,” Dex says, realizing Derek had it even worse than him last week. “I wouldn’t have.”

 

“Well, it’s done,” Derek says, looking around at the asphalt on the street. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

Dex plays it all back from the beginning, determined this time to remember things the way they were. He knows he needs to have enough strength to resist the pull of his insecurity and stand firm in his refusal to let it skew his vision.

 

He thinks back to all of Derek’s kindness and tenderness and passion, and the realization of how mistaken he’s been hits him like a tidal wave.

 

“It _does_ matter,” he argues, frustrated by all the misinterpretations. “I-I feel like I keep either saying it wrong or understanding it wrong, but I want to get it right for once, even if it's too late.”

 

Derek looks up at him, and Dex puts it all on the line.

 

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I walked into your store, and I can't remember the last time I felt this way. I actually don't think I've ever felt this way, and I'm….sorry.”

 

He blinks and bites his lip, eyes still completely focused on Dex.

 

“I'm sorry for whatever time you spent thinking…I wasn't interested, or that I didn't care, or that our night together was just a hookup because it wasn't. It was…incredible.”

 

Derek holds his gaze, and waits.

 

“It was incredible, and I want us to have it again, and this time I want to wake up and spend the day together. I…I want…dinners, and happy hours, and hockey games, and Netflix binges, and those baking lessons, and…poetry readings,” he continues, gesturing towards the store. “And…I want everything else.”

 

Derek’s eyes are wide, shining and shocked as he listens.

 

“I want you so badly it turns me into a complete _fucking_ idiot, and this didn’t happen the way it should’ve,” Dex finishes. “But I want another chance.”  

 

The strongest, most powerful silence Dex has ever experienced stands between them, so formidable it can almost be touched. He feels like he’s losing his mind with every second that goes by, completely on edge when Derek eventually speaks.

 

“Okay.”

 

Dex has to repeat it, needing to hear it again because he can’t believe his ears. “Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Derek says, and Dex finally, finally stops wasting time.

 

He kisses Derek like it’s the last chance he’ll get, needing to make up for all the lost moments with this one. He brings Derek’s face into his hands when they pull apart, starting to chuckle as he shakes his head, nearly delirious.

 

“I _am_ gonna need us to get a bit better at the communication thing,” Derek says, and Dex emphatically nods his agreement. “Accurate and real, yeah.”

 

They kiss again and it’s critical, Dex still feels like they’re on a cliff as he holds him, but the frantic disbelief starts to settle as a calm, peaceful happiness takes its place. He brings a hand back up to Derek’s face and runs his thumb slowly, gently across his cheek. “You know, I still owe you that breakfast.”

 

Derek quirks an eyebrow. “What, now?”

 

“I know a diner that’s open late,” Dex explains, starting to smile as he says it. “Do you…like waffles?”

 

“Yes,” Derek laughs, and the joy is too big and bright for the usual grin to contain. “I do like waffles.”

 

They kiss until the Uber shows up and spend the next hour and a half stuffing themselves to the brim with doughy, sugary decadence. In the dark and early morning, the two of them go to bed, fall asleep, and turn the page.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) like I said earlier THE BITTERSWEET BETWEEN MY TEETH!!!! TRYING TO FIND THE IN BETWEEN!!! FALL BACK IN LOVE EVENTUALLY!!! YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH!!! 
> 
> 2) The note: 
> 
> Didn’t want to wake you but I had to get up early to go to this bakery because the danishes are so good people get feral and they sell out in seconds. 
> 
> Last night was amazing. Can’t wait for today. 
> 
> See you soon, 
> 
> Derek
> 
> 3) also just want to remind everyone it's canon that my OTP likes to read the same thing and give each other different perspectives about it and I'm gonna be putting that more into my future fics and the sappy epilogue I have coming up for this! okay!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GIRL I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU GIRLS KNOW THIS EPILOGUE ISN’T FOR YOU IF YOU’RE NOT A SOFT ASS CORNY ASS SAP LIKE I AM. HEADS UP FOR SOME SLIGHT HOMOPHOBIA AND I FEEL LIKE THIS CHAPTER IS A LOT MORE EMOTIONAL? ALRIGHT LET’S GO.

It’s the morning after the Mansour family has returned to California and the sun is streaming in through the window. Springtime in Boston has been hot and bright; the sunlight marches into their room with intent, and Dex rubs his eyes as he wakes up.

He’s on his back. Derek has an arm draped over his chest and Dex takes his elbow just to hold it, enjoying the hushed thrill of being so close to him. Despite the full night’s sleep, Dex is exhausted, and he skips past all greetings and pleasantries when his partner wakes up. “I’m so tired.”

 

From the looks of him, Dex read his mind. “She just…had so much energy.”

 

The activities and entertainment from the day before return to him, and he recalls them with a chuckle. “She’s so funny.”

 

“Hilarious,” Derek agrees.

 

“I love that she can’t just…talk normally.”

 

“I know, it’s always like a speech.”

 

“Right,” Dex laughs. “Every time she talks, it’s like…the State of the Toddler Union address.”

 

“Exactly,” Derek continues, with the soft, gentle smile that shows up every time he talks about his niece. “She’s so cute.”

 

“Adorable.”

 

“It’s crazy because she’s the spitting image of Alexis but I can already tell she’s going to have Rami’s personality.”

 

“Oh my God,” Dex exclaims, thinking about Alexis having to deal with a tiny, easily distracted and fast-moving version of Rami. “That poor woman.”

 

Derek laughs into his shoulder as he keeps remembering aloud. “I would also watch a show called The Adventures of Layla and Harley.”

 

“When you asked her if she wanted to feed him,” Derek says, eyes alight with amusement. “And she tried to hand him her fruit snacks.”

 

“This video of her trying to climb Harley and ride him like a horse,” Dex adds.

 

“Art. It’s literally art.”

 

Gazing at each other as they revisit the fun from yesterday rouses all kinds of hopes and Dex is nestled in the moment, safely and securely enough to be completely honest. “I want them, by the way. Kids, I mean. Preferably a house full but I’m sure you can talk me down to a more reasonable number.”

 

Derek stares at him with his eyes and his jaw wide open, blinking twice before he responds. “Wow.”

 

“Are you freaking out?”

 

“I’m not freaking out.”

 

“You _look_ like you’re freaking out.”

 

“I’m _reacting_ ,” Derek asserts. “Can you let me react?”

 

Dex is a reasoned, patient man. “Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Derek parrots. “Well, I mean, not trying to be any kind of way, but…you know they’re going to be Black, right?"

 

Dex snorts. “I did have a bit of an inkling, yes.”

 

“And do you feel like you’re ready for that?”

 

“The plan right now is reading a lot of books and articles, but…I’m also definitely going to need your help with…racial…aspects and components.”

 

Derek chuckles as he nods. “I got you.”

 

“Good, because. Because yeah, I’m absolutely going to need that.”

 

“Okay,” Derek agrees.

 

It’s said casually, as though he could have just as easily said ‘chill’, but Dex knows better. He knows it’s a promise and echoes the sentiment, frightened but elated by the future. “Okay.”

 

It’s a lazy Sunday and the morning rolls along. Languidly, they make out, pad around the apartment and watch television until Derek proposes they head to the beach.

The book club they have between the two of them has fallen by the wayside recently, so Dex sees the visit as the perfect opportunity to catch up. He packs their chairs into the Jeep, sets the cooler alongside them, and tosses their book bags on top.

The parking lot is a mess and their umbrella is crooked, but it’s a beautiful day. Once they’re sat side by side, they open their books and Derek pulls out his reading glasses. For a moment, Dex is mute with rage at the clear, blatant disrespect.

 

“I’m not trying to start an argument with you, but we definitely talked about this.”

 

Derek blinks. “Talked about what?”

 

“Talked about you wearing glasses and having a beard at the same time.”

 

Derek grins, and the fury rises. “You make me sound like a villain-”

 

“You are,” Dex cuts off, smiling despite himself. “You’re a bad guy.”

 

Derek leans over and kisses him but Dex isn’t deterred, continuing to shake his head after they pull apart. “You’re not a good man.”

 

He laughs fully at that, cackling as he throws his head back. When he returns his gaze to Dex, Derek’s eyes trail across his neck and chest, and he brings a hand up to trace the freckles on Dex’s collarbone as he speaks. “Baby, do you have enough sunscreen on?”

 

Having expected something sexier, Dex lets out a surprised snort. “Yes, dear. I have enough sunscreen on.”

 

“Good, because you know sunburns are no joke,” Derek says, as he resumes his reading. “I mean, _I_ wouldn’t know personally, but I can imagine and empathize.”

 

Shaking his head, Dex goes back to the book with a chuckle, and they both read for a while. It’s a thought-provoking novel and after the last paragraph of the chapter hits him, Dex puts the book down.

 

“Hold up,” Derek declares, setting his own book down on his knee. “Did you just finish chapter four?”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking about right now.”

 

“So, Liam is a pathological liar.”

 

“Well he’s…definitely an unreliable narrator.”

 

“Bro,” Derek scoffs. _“_ Understatement of the _century_.”

 

“And now, I’m thinking about that conversation with Rachel.”

 

“Exactly, so he _was_ exaggerating the injury to get ahold of more pain pills.”

 

“I’m starting to wonder if he ever even had an injury at all.”

 

“I feel like that would be such a cheap plot twist.”

          

“There might be a skillful way to do it.”

 

Derek tilts his head to the side as he picks the book back up. “Well, it would take a deft hand.”

 

“Yeah,” Dex agrees, going to chapter five. “Let’s see if he has it.”

 

Beach Book Club continues on until Dex starts to feel dehydrated. After taking Derek’s order, he heads to the concession stand. He returns with their drinks after an eternity because the beach is packed and the lines are long, but neither the wait, nor the heat, nor the crowds are what irritate him. What irks Dex when he gets closer to where they’re sitting is that Derek is talking to a tall, attractive, and clearly interested man.

Meditation, however brief, had become a critical and essential tool for the management of Dex’s volatile, agonizing jealousy. Since the self-sabotage inspired breakup they’d had two years prior, Dex had made a commitment to working through his feelings of insecurity and inadequacy, and most days were successful. 

Some days, like today, were not. 

Nevertheless and despite the rising tides of self-loathing, he needs to get ahold of himself. Another deep breath flows through his chest, and he approaches them.

 

“This must be the boyfriend,” announces the handsome stranger with a remarkable, maddening resemblance to Thor.

 

“Yes,” Derek confirms, gesturing towards Dex with an open hand. “This is the boyfriend.”

 

“Hi,” Dex greets, putting his hand out to shake. “I’m Will.”

 

“Riley,” he answers, with a glance between them as Dex sets back in his chair. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to your day. Derek, I have your email address so I’ll be in touch.”

 

“Great, I look forward to hearing from you.”

 

‘I’ll be in touch’ slams and bangs around his head as he tries to focus on the small details of his surroundings: the white foam of the waves, the stripes on lifeguard stand, the sandcastles’ towers.

 

“Riley is a literary agent,” Derek explains, definitely picking up on Dex’s change in demeanor. “We were talking about books, and the store.”

 

Dex nods, takes a sip of his drink and clambers around to find even an ounce of pleasant nonchalance. “Cool.”

 

In an attempt to help Dex buy himself some time, Derek’s phone fortuitously buzzes and lights up with texts in the ensuing moments, but he ignores them. Fortunately and unfortunately, the great love of his life is attentive, caring, and perceptive. “Is everything okay?”

 

“I, just, I don’t really,” Dex stammers. “I don’t know, I’m- I’m just.”

 

“Are you upset?”

 

“Yes,” Dex admits, knowing Derek wants the truth. “But I don’t really have a good reason, and it’s not your fault in any way.”

 

“Okay. Can you say more?”

 

“I’m…jealous. I’m really jealous and it’s…it’s just a strong day for the voice, so I’m. Dealing with that right now, and I’m kind of…anxious.”

 

“Got it,” he nods.

 

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Derek protests, taking his hand. “Do you want to go home?”

 

The weather is gorgeous, the beach is impeccable, and there’s too much left of the afternoon. “I don’t want to ruin the day.”

 

“You’re not ruining the day. I promise.”

 

“Okay,” he agrees, and as much as he hates himself for it, he’s relieved to be leaving.

 

They pack up their stuff and go back to the car, mostly in silence. The waves of anxiety are weakening, but still resonating through him as they drive back to the apartment. Dex heads to the kitchen first, sitting down on a stool as he cracks his knuckles.

 

Derek leans in the doorway, waits, and then speaks. “Can we kick it for a second?”

 

With a quiet half-nod, Dex agrees, and follows Derek to their bed. He lies down on his side and props his elbow up as Dex plops down next to him, flat on his back and looking up at the ceiling.

 

“We shouldn’t have left the beach,” Dex says, chastising himself for the time he took away. “This is stupid, and a waste of time.”

 

Derek grazes Dex’s jaw with the back of his hand and speaks at a near whisper. “Don’t do that.”

 

Dex clamps his mouth shut and crosses his arms as Derek continues. “You said it was a big day for the voice. Can I ask what it’s saying?”

 

He’s somehow able to parse out a clear, common theme from the calamitous, chaotic mess of emotions.

 

“It’s mostly just wondering why you’re taking so long to realize you’re slumming it, and when you’re going to…stop slumming it, I guess.”

 

“Well, the message you can relay for me is that I’m not fucking slumming it, so. You can tell the voice to jot that down.”

 

Dex manages a chuckle despite himself. “Okay.”

 

Derek brings his thumb to the top of Dex’s cheek, slowly tracing downwards as Dex looks over at him. Softly, he brings his thumb back and forth across Dex’s chin, and Dex can barely withstand the tenderness.

 

“And, something I want to tell you is…I know it’s hard to remember, especially when it’s active, but…the voice lies when it tells you that I should leave you, or that I could do better, or whatever else it says,” Derek continues, almost a murmur. “The truth is, there's...nothing else but you. You’re my whole life.”

 

It’s overwhelming now, all swelling together and starting down his face. “Damn it,” he curses, as he wipes an eye.

 

Derek lies on his back and pulls Dex into his chest. “Come here.”

 

“God, this is embarrassing,” Dex sniffs, drying his cheek. “I mean, you don’t have to…you don’t have to _hold_ me.”

 

“Okay well, maybe I _want_ to hold you,” Derek retorts, trying for sharp and defensive. “Maybe I’m cuddling right now to benefit _myself_. I know it’s hard to believe but maybe the world doesn’t revolve around you, White man. Maybe I do things for _me_ sometimes.”

 

Dex laughs into Derek’s shirt and looks up at him, suddenly delirious. “I love you.”

 

“I love you,” Derek responds, quick like a reflex. “Thank you for talking to me about this. I know it wasn’t easy.”

 

“Thank you for listening, and…making it better.”

 

Dex’s hair is getting long around the ears, and Derek runs his fingers through it as he speaks. “Of course.”

 

With a lifted, invigorated mood, Dex decides they should go back to the beach, and the rest of the afternoon is nothing short of perfect.

 

\---

 

He puts her on speaker as he rolls his sleeves up and washes his hands. Leaning on the counter, he hears their door open, and Derek walks in home from the bookstore just as the call wraps up. 

 

“It was so good to talk to you, Lisa,” Dex says. “Tell Michael I said hi. Alright, bye-bye.”

 

After setting his bag down, Derek greets him with a kiss and moves to grab a water glass. “Was that _my_ Lisa?”

 

“Yes,” Dex answers, pocketing his phone. “Your mother is the only Lisa I know.”

 

“Mm,” Derek hums, as he opens the fridge and takes the BRITA pitcher out. “I’m sure you loved being able to get on the phone and catch up with your bestie.”

 

“Lisa is a charming, intelligent and distinguished woman and you’re correct in saying I enjoy our conversations.”

 

“Just out of curiosity,” Derek starts. “Have you been slow-playing me for the past three years to get to my mom?”

 

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

 

“We’re not going to be able to get over this speed bump in our relationship if you can’t admit you have a thing for my mother.”

 

“You’re a silly, ridiculous man.”

 

Derek chuckles as he pours his water but soon after, a shadow falls on his face. He takes a long sip.

 

“Um, also,” he hems, furrowing his brow as he sets the glass down. “Speaking of parents…I wasn’t gonna tell you but I also don’t like the idea of keeping things from you, so…my dad is in town, and I’m having dinner with him tomorrow night.”

 

Dex sighs, electing to keep his mouth closed for a moment before he speaks. “Can I go with you?”

 

Derek quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leans against the fridge. “Is that a good idea considering your history with my father?”

 

Dex looks to the side, scratching his neck as he recalls their past interactions. “Well.”

 

“Are you gonna be able to chill?”

 

“I’ll do my best,” Dex answers, looking back at Derek. “But your dad’s an asshole.”

 

Derek shrugs, picking his water glass back up and downing a gulp before he speaks. “I mean…you’re not wrong.”

 

“Even though, I’m not- I’m not trying to…turn you against him or anything.”

 

“I know,” he assures, setting the glass back down. “I know. He’s difficult.”

 

Dex sighs again, cross and displeased. “You don’t have to have dinner with him if you don’t want to. You don’t owe him anything.”

 

“It’s just…I don’t know, it’s just that I don’t really see him or talk to him that often, even though he’s paid for a lot of things and he helped me out when the store was just starting up, so it’s like…I do kind of owe him.”

 

“He’s your father,” Dex argues. “You don’t owe him for the things he gave you.”

 

Derek crosses his arms again, cocking his head to the side. “I guess.”

 

Their kitchen is silent and the moment hangs in the balance. “So, can I come along?”

 

“I’m certainly not going to stop you, William,” Derek allows, resigned. “I’m just hoping we can at least have an appetizer before the fistfight starts.”

 

Dex scoffs at his partner’s fruitful imagination. “There has never been anything close to a fistfight.”

 

“Christmas Eve last year was _definitely_ in the range.”

 

At the mention of the holiday party, he flips through those memories and makes a concession. “Okay, _one_ time got _kind_ of close to a fistfight, but I’m gonna stay calm tomorrow.”

 

The corners of Derek’s mouth quirk up. “I believe that you believe that.”

 

With all of his foregoing experiences regarding Derek’s father, Dex, of course, would have done well to heed Derek’s advice. Alas, not much can be done about our hero’s strong, resolute hard-headedness.

Strangely, the simmering resentment Dex holds for Derek’s father seems to make the next twenty-four hours fly by. With the recollections of encounters past cycling through his mind, he stops by the ATM on his way back from work, taking out enough money to cover the tab so that Derek doesn’t feel even more indebted. When he returns to their apartment, he irons a shirt and combs his hair to look presentable and soon enough, it’s time for dinner. Neither of them is particularly excited by the notion, and they leave their apartment like two men condemned.

Objectively, the walk is nice. It’s a cool evening, and the steakhouse isn’t far from where they live. He tries to be aware of his roiling frustration, hoping to keep it at a level that won’t magnify Derek’s own tension.

As they’re being seated, Dex plasters a great, fake smile onto his face and shakes Mr. Nurse’s hand. The pleasantries go back and forth like a friendly game of badminton, but Dex knows better than to get comfortable, certain that the jabs will begin when the wine starts flowing,

Robert’s narcissism provides good conversational fodder in the beginning, and he visibly enjoys talking about himself as he chomps through the appetizer. They order their entrees and Dex takes small, measured sips of the Sangiovese.

 

“Whatever happened to Kimberly,” Robert starts, after another hefty swig. “What did she do after Yale?”

 

“She got an MBA and works for an investment firm in Chicago,” Derek answers.

 

“Hmm. Well, an MBA is a nice thing to have.”

 

Derek responds with a brisk nod of acknowledgement. “It definitely is.”

 

In the few moments of silence that follow, Dex realizes that bringing up Derek’s ex is a two for one, designed to remind his son that he’d preferred to have seen him with a woman and for him to have followed in his footsteps to work in finance.

 

“Well, she was a looker,” Robert barrels forward, liberally topping up his glass. “You two made a very nice couple.”

 

Dex keeps his mouth closed and grits his teeth. Derek is clearly uncomfortable, glancing back and forth between them before he speaks. “Dad-”

 

“Not that there’s anything _wrong_ with the…you know, with the… _lifestyle_ you two have. It’s just, you know, when you have a son, you just. Well, you just imagine things will go a little differently, that’s all. William, I’m certain your parents went through something similar, surely you understand.”  

 

The large, falsified grin returns. “Of course I do, Robert.”

 

Seeing that Dex hasn’t taken the bait, he switches gears. “Are you still doing the computer programming?”

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“Well, it’s good that you two have that to fall back on in case Derek’s…passion project doesn’t work out.”

 

The mention of Derek stirs the situation and places them in the danger zone, because where Dex gets in trouble is when Derek is spoken about in a diminutive way. He clenches his jaw and takes a long, measured breath through his nose. “I’m not sure I would use the term ‘passion project’ to describe the successful and award-winning bookstore Derek owns.”

 

“Award-winning,” Robert exclaims, bringing his attention to his son. “Is that right?”

 

“The store itself won an award,” Dex continues, prideful as he puts Robert in his place. “And, Derek also won a Small Business Owner award.”

 

His eyebrows perch as his head starts a slow, deliberate nod. “You didn’t tell me that.”

 

“It actually wasn’t a big deal,” Derek responds, deflecting from behind the wall of nonchalance he’s had to construct to protect himself. 

 

“It actually _was_ a big deal,” Dex pushes, and his voice is calm but the fury is churning.

 

“Well, good for you, Derek,” Robert says, condescension hitting with every syllable. “Any achievement, no matter how minor, is something to be proud of.”

 

‘No matter how minor’ is what breaks the camel’s back, and in that moment Dex wants nothing more than to flip the table over and smash Robert’s nose in. The rage writes and rewrites various violences, but they’re deleted as he remembers himself. He stands up. “That’s it.”

 

Derek looks at him and speaks quickly, seeking to diffuse the conflict. “Will, don’t-”

 

“Derek, you need to get your things together because we’re leaving,” he cuts off, reaching into his wallet, dropping the bills down with a flick of his wrist and a slight amount of flair. “This should be enough for the bill and the tip.”

 

Robert has the gall to look shocked, looking back and forth between them as he speaks. “Is this a joke?”

 

“No,” Dex answers, sliding his chair back in. “With all due respect sir, I’m not going to spend the rest of my evening listening to you belittle Derek, so we’re going to go. Come on, Der.”

 

Derek’s on his heels as they leave the restaurant and they walk side by side on the way back, both of them shocked and silent. When they return to the apartment, Derek goes to sit on the couch. Dex hangs back and plans his next move before he sits next to him.

 

“I get it if you’re mad at me,” he starts, “Because I know you wanted me to be chill, but-”

 

“It’s okay,” Derek shakes his head, looking to the side. “I’m not mad at you, and I think…I think I needed that.”

 

He rubs his face as some kind of preemptive move, but the first tear drops over his fingers. Dex brings him into his arms before the next ones fall.

 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dex soothes, rubbing his back. “Oh, Derek.”

 

“I just…don’t know what to do to…make him…”

 

“There’s nothing for you to do,” Dex objects. “I don’t know why he likes to make you feel like nothing is good enough, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m so proud of your accomplishments, and you should be too.”

 

Derek takes a deep, settling breath. “Thank you.”

 

They quietly sit back on their couch and Dex brings him in even closer, planting a kiss on Derek’s forehead as the sniffles die down. “Well, we _did_ manage to get an appetizer,” he says, and feels the low rumble of Derek’s laughter before he hears it. “I’m still pretty hungry, though.”

 

“Same,” Derek agrees.

 

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“There’s still a good amount of the pesto left,” Dex offers. “You want to just…gorge ourselves on pasta?”

 

Derek looks up at him and nods fervently. “That is exactly what I want to do, yes.”

 

“Okay,” Dex agrees, voice soft.

 

Derek takes a last moment to snuggle into Dex’s chest before letting him get up, and it’s half-mumbled into his shirt but it reaches him clearly. “I love you.”

 

“I love you,” Dex answers, into the top of his head. “More than you know.”

 

After another kiss into his hair, Dex stands up and begins to move, but stops to double check with Derek. “Also, how cheesy do you want this pasta to be?”

 

“Stupidly,” Derek responds, with urgency and purpose. “I want there to be an unreasonable, unjustifiable amount.”

 

“You got it,” Dex grins, as he goes to their kitchen and starts.

 

\---

 

It's Friday morning. They wake up tangled together and miraculously have a few extra minutes to stay in bed and lounge. The muffins Dex had baked the night before are even better now, and they each have one over coffee.

Dex keeps his cool as they discuss possibilities for the weekend, aiming to keep things indefinite and remain unattached to any particular activity. After a quick kiss goodbye, Dex heads out the door to work, and the dreamy haze of their domestic bliss lingers until his thoughts return to the task he has in front of him.

Not only does the fear arrive slowly, but it also does so stealthily. It’s not until eleven that he takes a look down at his mouse, sees his hand shaking, and realizes how terrified he is.

The phone conversation he’d had with Rami from the previous week returns to him and recalling his advice manages to soothe Dex, albeit temporarily. The panic ebbs and flows for the next hour or so and his appetite is shot by noon. He takes another sip of his coffee and hopes the café correctly gave him decaf, knowing his nerves don’t need the help. 

He stares at the clock on his desk and it stares back, silently asking why he’s taking so long. He quite nearly slams it downward, needing a respite from the judgment.

With a tremor, he reaches for one of the pictures of them; it’s one of them as groomsmen from Chowder and Farmer’s wedding, and he lets the sheer, powerful joy emanating from the photo settle him. It does to a certain extent, and with another small tremble, he types out the message.

 

_Can you close the store for lunch? I just need a few minutes._

Derek answers instantly.

 

**Okay. Is everything alright?**

 

_Yeah, everything’s fine._

After tidying up his desk, he double, then triple checks his pockets. His heart picks up the pace in anticipation, but he tames it on his way out.

On his walk, he thinks back to the first time he went to the store. Thankfully, enough time has passed for the both of them to be able to laugh at every mishap and misstep that ensued after that first fateful meeting. As he turns the familiar corner, he thinks for the thousandth time that he owes Jeff some kind of fruit basket or edible arrangement.

When he gets to the storefront, he braces himself and knocks on the glass.

Derek looks up, instantly beaming at the sight of him, and he offers Derek’s grin as some kind of pacifier for the panicked, frenzied hammering in his chest. As Derek makes his way to the door, every second that passes seems to shrink and stretch at the same time. It’s opened, and Dex walks in.

 

“Hey,” Derek greets. “What’s up?”

 

Dex steels himself, staring as he faces him, gaze hard and considering. “I’m looking for a book.”

 

Derek blinks, clearly puzzled as to why that would merit the store’s closing, but he goes along. “Okay…what kind of book?”

 

“Just generally,” Dex starts, as his hands slide down Derek’s shoulders, “A book about…fate, and destiny, and soulmates. An over the top romance novel with a story about…you know, a…one in a million, once in a lifetime kind of love. You know…a love story for the ages. A book like that.”

 

The searching look on Derek’s face grows confused, and Dex uses the silence to take one last look before he jumps.

 

“Here,” he says, reaching into his pocket. “I might have something that’ll give you an idea of what I’m talking about.”

 

The tiny black box feels heavy somehow, and for a moment he’s afraid the sweat on his palms will make it slip out of his grasp. They both look down at Dex’s opened hand as Derek’s confusion turns to shock, and the shock turns to joy. “Will you marry me?”

 

Derek’s eyes are misty now, and brimming with wonder. “Yes.”

 

They each have matching, massive grins as Derek opens the box and slides the ring onto his hand. “It fits perfectly.”

 

“Well, you sleep like the dead, so. Getting a finger measurement wasn’t that hard.”

 

It’s a shining, daunting moment and they bask in it, unable to take their eyes off each other as the joy grows outward and envelops them. Derek kisses him and he melts into it, wrapping his arms and closing in tightly. They break apart, exhilarated, both letting out stuttered, incredulous chuckles.

 

“’I’m looking for a book,’” Derek imitates, shaking his head. “You are such a sap.”

 

“Guilty,” Dex admits, nearly dizzy, buzzing through his skin.  

 

“I’m just…overwhelmed. And so happy, and…I can’t wait.”

 

“I know what you mean.”

 

Looking around the room, Derek lets out a dejected sigh. “I want to…close the store up and go somewhere.”

 

“Luckily for us, Regina is kindly coming in with the assist,” Dex responds, looking at his watch. “She should be taking over for you in about fifteen minutes. I also took a half day, so.”

 

The happiness nears rapture as Derek smiles. “Where do you want to go?”

 

“Anywhere,” he answers, before kissing him with everything he has. “Wherever you want.”

 

After Regina comes in, Derek and Will leave the store, get on the train, and start happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wellll that's the end of this!!! thanks for coming along on the ride!!!


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